


Last Night, Good Night

by IMAgentMI, PFLAgentYork (Legendaerie)



Series: RP-verse [4]
Category: Red vs. Blue
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Established Relationship, F/M, Handcuffs, Light BDSM, Love Bites, Rough Sex, Vaginal Sex
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-21
Updated: 2017-07-21
Packaged: 2018-12-04 21:29:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,485
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11563695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/IMAgentMI/pseuds/IMAgentMI, https://archiveofourown.org/users/Legendaerie/pseuds/PFLAgentYork
Summary: The night before a long mission, York and Carolina soak in each other's warmth; with the help of some repurposed gear.





	Last Night, Good Night

**Author's Note:**

> A thread for context - https://pflagentyork.tumblr.com/post/162627958677/pflagentcarolina-pflagentyork
> 
> Alternating POVs beween paragraphs, Carolina is IMAgentMI and York is Legendaerie, same as usual.

It’s their last night together before a long mission; York, alone and fresh on the active roster, on data collection for nearly a week. They’re here in his room, already naked, as though he can soak up the heat of her body to last him in the frigid cold, and she’s sucking the first of several promised marks into his skin.

 

Carolina glances down at York's wrist in her hands, brushing her thumb across the delicate skin that has turned red from her mouth.  “Maybe just a bit darker, hmm?”  She licks over her mark, then settles back to sucking, shifting over him as she watches his eyes.

York watches her with blown pupils, wrist limp in her grasp, totally content to let her have free reign over his body. He’s been rock hard since he’d sat up and pulled her into his lap, and the burn is settling deep and satisfying in his hips.

“However-- however you want it, boss, you know what I like.” He licks his lips and lets his head list to the side, baring his neck in invitation.  

“Mmmm.”  She checks his wrist one more time, then kisses her mark and sets his hand on the bed.  “Yes, I know what you like by now.  And I know when to give it to you,” she leans forward against him, lowering her mouth to suck hard at his proffered neck, “and when to deny.”

She pulls back, shifting over his hips.  “You  better make sure you get everything you want tonight, because once you set foot on that Pelican, you will not touch yourself the entire time you are gone.  Nothing until you are back here and in my arms again.  Then you'll be fucking me and won't need to jerk off.”  She lowers her mouth to his throat again, this time on the other side, to leave a matching mark there.  “Of course, if you can somehow come without touching… remember one of our nights together, the feel of me wet and riding you… if that is enough to make you jizz in your undersuit, then more power to you.  And make sure you show me that trick when you get back.”  

“Oh,” he breathes, suddenly dizzy with the rush of blood south, “oh, oh god, oh--”

York reaches up and fumbles with her ponytail, body jerking under her everytime she touches him with her teeth, and finally lets her hair fall over her back and shoulders. He runs shaking hands through it, holding her close and letting her, needing her to feast on his skin like he had to her not three minutes prior.

“Yes,” he assures her. “Yes, yes, I’ll-- I’ll do it, I’ll wait for you as long as it takes--”

“Mmm.. good, York…” Carolina leaves her latest mark to shift down to his collarbone.  “And when you get back, I want you on your knees.  I want you to tell me just how much you missed me, how much you thought about me, how much you ached with want but were so good and kept your hands off.  I want you to beg me to touch you.”  She licks a strip across the bone and nips at his skin before settling in to suck.

The noise that tears out of his throat is more like a wail than a word, a sound of pure desperation as he clings to her. “Touch me-- touch me now, please,” he begs, chest heaving under her skillful mouth.

She sits back up to kiss him, long enough that they both lose their breath completely.  “I will, York, but first I think you need a little practice keeping hands off.  Bring me your handcuffs.”

He feels as though she could have torn him in half down the middle; devastated and enthralled at once, and the latter edges the former out. Barely able to look away from her and the little smirk she’s sporting, York reaches over the edge of the mattress and finds the cuffs by touch. He hands them to her and presses his wrists together above his head, swallowing hard.

She leans down to take one of his wrists, listening to the ratcheting as she closes the cuff around it, careful not to make it too snug, then pauses.  “Keys, York, unless you want to spend our last hours together with you talking me through how to pick open these locks.”

“Or I could pick it with my mouth,” he offers, even as he’s reaching back for the keys. He finds them after a pause just long enough to make him doubt himself, and hands them over. “I’ve done it with a pick and my teeth once. Could do it again.”  

She pauses.  “Was this in the field or in the bedr--” She gives a shake of her head. “Don't tell me, I don't want to know.”  She accepts the keys and places them on the bedside table in easy reach.  “Scoot up a tiny bit more.” She waits for him to get situated, then pulls the handcuffs behind one of the bleak metal posts of the headboard and snaps it around his other wrist.  She moves back, straddling his hips before leaning forward to kiss him.  “How is that? Too tight?”

“Field. Don’t you remember that one mission, with the giant rats? How else did you think I got out so fast?” He’s had a few other partners, sure, but they pale in comparison to her; and he wants to make sure she knows that.

York tugs on them, wincing at the clash of metal on metal. “We’re gonna need to muffle that. Grab a sock?”

“Oh, the rats..”  She manages a smile, only a tiny bit forced, “that was the first time I ever heard you scream.”  She kisses him again, too lightly for her next words. “I didn't know then how much I was going to love the sound.”  She seizes his lip in her teeth and pulls.  “I'll find a way to muffle that metal-- not sure if I want to muffle any of your beautiful sounds though.  Maybe I'll even leave the door open a crack.  Just so everyone can hear what you sound like when you are getting wrecked.”  Carolina kisses the tip of his nose, then gets out of bed.

In the end, she wrapped a t-shirt around the bar, and a second around the chain.  It was bulky, but at least it was quiet.

She straddles York, leaning down to check one more time.  “Sure you're okay?”  

“Fantastic, never been better, ten out of ten, and I--” he sinks his teeth into his bottom lip, tugging at the restraints and savoring the way they dug into his skin, “--I’m torn, I wanna be yours and only yours but-- I want everyone to know what you do to me, how it’s only you and no one else who gets me like this.” It frightens him sometimes, how deep his longing runs; how many times his head fills with fantasies of After when it's only them, together, and the war is well beyond their white picket fences.  

“And I'm yours,” she purrs against his throat.  “No one will ever touch me like this again.  Just you,York. Only you. Except,” she adds, running her fingers up one restrained arm, “looks like right now you can’t.”  She lowers herself against him, draping her body over his as she kisses slow and deep, starting all over again.

Her words comfort him, and he wishes they didn’t - he wishes he could imagine a world where, if circumstance tore them apart, she could find a replacement and forget him. But he doesn’t. He wants to matter to her in a way that no one can match, wants to be irreplaceable and precious without breaking her heart for good. York deepens the kiss to keep his tongue busy, purges his mind of anything but here and now and her as her touch ghosts down his body, and arches underneath her.

His body pressing up against hers feels delicious, and she’s plenty ready, which is painful because now denying him means denying _her_ \--fuck.  But this is important.

“You wanted marks, right? You want to spend your time on the trip to some frozen forsaken wasteland sitting back and feeling your healing unit slowly erasing me from your skin?  Well, if you really want to torture yourself twice, who am I to stop you…”  One last kiss, then both hands against his chest, raking furrows down his skin, first white, then blushing to red.

York tilts his head back and cries out, the sound strangled by his instinct to be quiet and how badly he wanted to shout the walls down for her. God, he is in the wrong business if he gets off on being tied up and clawed up like this, but it's so damn good. “Fantasies-- you asked about them? Right?” he pants, already half out of his mind with a need so strong it shakes him to the core.

She puts a tiny bit more weight into the next set of scratches, then lays down on top of him to start sucking more hickeys into his chest.  “Oooh, this sounds interesting.  I'm listening.  I might stay busy while you talk,” she sucks hard and pulls back with an obscene wet popping sound, “But I'm all ears.” She nestles back down and gets to work.

He sobs under her, eyes fluttering closed for a moment before he rallies, body wracked with shudders as his nerves were overrun by Carolina. “Back-- back in the beginning-- when we were first getting used to the co-ed lockers--” it's hard to remember the details, and how the woman he’d known then had been a paragon and a leader more than his equal and teammate, how little he’d known about her other sides. “Sometimes we’d end up alone in there together and-- I just wanted you to slam me-- against the wall and kiss me-- no word no warning just you, all of you, wanting all of me--”  

She looks up with shining eyes.  “I can slam you into more walls, if you like.  But I can promise you that all of me wants all of you, all the time.  Right now.  Can't you see it, York?  Can't you feel it?”  She braces her hands on either side of his head, raising her body to slide along his, grinding against his cock, once, twice.  “Do you feel it now?”

Even through the fabric, the clatter of metal on metal feels deafening to York’s ears. The hot, slick feeling of her shocks the breath out of him, and for a moment he pulls against the cuffs as hard as he can, so desperate for more more more, but he collapses against the bed before they break. Wouldn't do to ruin the gift she gave him, not when the dried roses in her room sit in their vase of honor on her desk.

“Yes, yes, yes, yes,” he chants, all other thought robbed from his mind. “God, yes, Carolina,” and the concepts blur together to him, his pleas coming out like prayers.

“Mmm… you sound like you like that.” Carolina rolls her hips over him again, but it's a mistake - need is rising in her, and she can't stop the moan that escapes her, can't stop herself from sliding over him again.  To try and hide from him, she leans down to his neck and bites.  But even that is not enough, no matter how he gasps, so she grinds again, and when he moves his hips to meet her she feels him catch in her.  Instead of freeing him, she leaned back and let him slide in.

York jerks against the cuffs, his entire body curling, trying to chase Carolina as she sits up, trying to get her closer even as he slides home inside of her. He tries to say her name but it catches in his throat, vowels ripped out in a howl that echoes in the confined space of his room.  Every muscle fiber in his body is yanked taut, and her featherlight touch on his chest is like a bow on cello strings and he moans deep and loud.

She ignores the desire to rock down, to ride him, and instead leans over until her forehead touches his.  “York?  Sweetheart, you okay?  I've got you, love...you ready for the cuffs to come off now?”  She reaches out to stroke his face, soft and tender.

“No-- no, leave them--” he leans into her touch, needing it more than he needs air in his lungs, and forces a cocksure smile. “C-c’mon, you know me--” the effect is dampened by his stammer, “--I can handle more than this. I’ll-- I’ll tell you when it’s too much just-- don’t stop. I want to feel it tomorrow. For days.”

He’s starting to feel it now, a steady ache in his joints, a protest from the strain, but it’s overpowered by all the ways in which it makes him burn with pleasure.

“Anything you want, love...just tell me.”  She straightens over him again and rocks down, savoring the way he bucks under her, the way the groan catches and breaks in his throat.  She rocks again and her moan joins his, and now she is the one who wants his cuffs off, wants his fingers tangling in her hair, cupping her breasts, dragging her down to kiss.  But Carolina buries that desire and picks up speed, hands firm on his hips, letting his need drive her on.  

If she asked him again if he wanted the cuffs off, York isn't sure he could hear her, much less answer her; his thrust is busy voicing moan after moan, each one nearly punched out of him by the movement of Carolina’s hips.  His whole body jolts with each movement, a weary delirious rhythm taxing muscles already worn from his beatdown in sparring. Distantly he’s aware that he’s too loud, they’re going to hear him in the hallway for sure, but he can't form a single word to ask for a gag or something. All that matters is feeling her, watching her move on him, his whole body gone white hot with pleasure and pain alike.

“York, York…” Carolina can feel tears starting to prick at her eyes, love and frustration together.  “Fuck… I love you...I need you” She snatches the keys off the bedside table, reaching over him to undo one of the cuffs.  She pulls him forward, not bothering to free the second, so the cuffs still hang from his other wrist. “I want your hands on me...York….”

His hands snap to her as though her skin is magnetized, cuffs clattering in protest on his wrist as he yanks her down for a kiss that he can’t help but gasp into, especially when his hands on her breasts make her tighten around him. “Love you, love you, love you,” he promises, words slurring into an incoherent mess the closer he gets, the kisses he smears on her chest little more than the drag of his open mouth.

“I love it.  I love those-- those words.”  She's so close.  “I want to hear them again… And again…”  She rolls her hips over him and pants frantically.  “I want to hear you… I want to hear _everything…_ ”  She lowers her mouth to his ear.  “I want to hear you lose control.  Do you hear me, York?  I want to hear you _scream_.”  Carolina looks hurriedly around, grabs a pillow, pushes it into his hand.  “Use this.”  She braces herself, stroking along him and nearly falling apart herself. “Let go, York.  Come for me, love.”

York barely has enough time to clamp the pillow over his face before his orgasm tears through him like chain lightning; her wish is his command and his voice splinters on the long, sobbing wail that, without the pillow, could have been heard through half the dormitory wing. He throws the pillow to the side and yanks Carolina down, breathing hard against her mouth.

She was half gone by the time his wail rang out, despite the pillow.  Now she seizes under his touch, clutching him as though she's drowning, gasping and dizzy from sharing his breath so close. Her head drops to his chest as her orgasm weakens and she sinks against him, kissing his neck weakly.  “I love you.”

He starts to reply, but all he can manage is the best impression of a frog he’s heard in four years.

Carolina turns her head, then sits up completely, despite the post-orgasm fatigue that is weighing her down.  “Was that… was that you?”  

York bursts into a miserably, croaking, wheezing laugh that shakes his whole body and points to his throat.

“Oh my god.” Carolina raises one hand to gently trace her fingertips down from his jaw to his chest. “We actually broke you.”  She laughs delightedly, seizing him behind the neck and pulling him in for a kiss.  “Why... _why_ didn't this happen when you're actually going to be around?  Oh god, people would have teased the _shit_ out of you.  It would have been _fantastic.”_

“It’ll heal,” he manages, or some garbled approximation of it; then presses two fingers against her lips.  He touches his throat with the same two and waits, gazing up at her with nothing but pure, unfiltered adoration.

“Oh… you want me to kiss it better?” Carolina leans forward and presses a line of gentle kisses over his neck.  “Anywhere else?”  As he holds up his wrists, she half groans.  “Oh York, let's get that off you.”  Her eyes fell on the table.  “Um...where are the ke-- oh thank god.” She plucks the tiny keyring off the bed next to her knee and in a moment, the cuff falls away.  Carolina took York’s hands in hers, checking the marks on his skin, gently massaging and kissing over his wrists and fingers.  “Anywhere else?”  

He repeats the action, touching her lips and then his elbows, and sighs as Carolina obliges. The tops of his shoulders next, and then he coaxes her back up to his mouth, shivering as he shifts inside of her but reluctant to pull out. Even if he could speak, York isn’t sure he’d have the words for how he feels right now, soaking in the heat of her skin as though she could keep him warm for a near-week of distance.

She takes his face in her hands and holds him there, her gaze running over his features as though she's trying to memorize every part of him.  Finally she sighs, and kisses him slow and soft.  “I'm going to miss you.”  She runs her fingers through his hair, savoring the way it feels.  I wish I was going with you.  It would be the worst idea _ever,”_ she admits, “But… still.”  

“Just us,” he croaks, clearing his throat. “Would be like-- shore leave. Very, very cold-- shore leave.” York combs his fingers through her hair, draping it over her shoulder and in a fit of tender spontaneity starts to separate it into sections and braid it.

Carolina closes her eyes, enjoying the feeling of him playing with her hair.  “Careful York.  I might fall asleep just like this…”  She hums contentedly.  “Feels good.”

He finishes the braid and lets go, watching his work unravel at the end and trailing his fingers down to her chest. This time, when he presses his palm against her it’s to feel her heartbeat. After a pause, he finds one of hers and guides it to his own chest. Their paces are slowing down in the afterglow, hers steady under his touch, and he waits for her to feel it, too.

“In sync,” she murmurs sleepily.  She snuggles down against him, finding her favourite spot at his neck, and moving her hand to keep the feeling of his heart under her fingertips.  She smiles against his skin before sitting up to look into his eyes again.  “York?”

He clears his throat again. Damn. “Yeah?”

She gives him a rueful grin.  “Leaking.”  

Instead of answering, he gave a twist of a smile and a roll of his hips that somehow managed to communicate that he too could feel it, since he was still in her.  Unable to shake her smile, Carolina still manages to give him give him a long even stare.  “I can push you out of bed before or after you pull out.  Your choice.”

York rolls his eyes as dramatically as possible before easing her onto her back and getting up. He has to press a hand against the wall for support and to feel his way into the bathroom, grabbing a hand towel and damping one end with warm water. He turns the corner and is thunderstruck by the image of her in the low lighting, on her back and naked in his bed, head turned to face him with a slow smile. What stops him isn’t the idea of missing this for a week - it’s the idea of having this forever.

“York?”  Carolina brushes her hand across the sheets next to her, smoothing them out in an invitation to rejoin her.  “You okay, sweetheart?”

He nods dumbly, sliding in next to her and handing her the towel. “I think I managed to keep from getting any on the sheets -- rolled over just in time.”  Carolina gently wipes along the edges of her slit, down the side of her legs, folding and re-folding the cloth to remove the semen and not merely smear it.  She places the cloth on her stomach, in case she still needs it, and turns her attention back to York.  He is still watching her with that same expression she can't read.  “York?”

He reaches out and twines their fingers together, setting it on her stomach just below the towel. “Talk me to sleep?” he asks, scooting closer to her on the bed and throwing a leg on top of hers. His other arm helps pillow his head as he watches her, fighting off exhaustion and losing.

Carolina watches him settle in, snuggling her head into her borrowed pillow.  “I love your gift, York.  I mean I really, _really_ love it.  Your heart in my hands… your romantic side shows through on the most wonderful ways.”  She picks up the cloth and checks herself one last time, then drops it over the side of the bed.  Carolina rubs at the cool wet spot on her belly, trying to warm the skin there.  She presses her head to his shoulder and relaxes against him.  

“You realize what a difference this is going to make?  Aside from just being the sweetest and sexiest gift I’ve ever received?  You made something that is going to help keep me reassured you are okay while you are gone.  All that anxiety off my chest... “  She looks over at him.  “I’m so glad you never saw what a mess I was when you and North were gone.  I mean, I was a mess when you came back and for good reason, but it was shameful how much I fell apart, worrying about you, not knowing how you were, if you were safe.  Probably everyone here will love you for it.  I was a jittery bitchy mess.  You’ve probably saved someone from getting a limb snapped off at some point.”  

“Hmmm.  I don’t know what else… what do you want me to talk about?”

York opens his eyes slowly, blinking up at her, and chews on her words. “Tell me a memory,” he says at last. “A happy one. Before the Project.” If she won't admit to a future, maybe she’ll talk about her past.

“A happy memory.”  Carolina let her head roll back, closed her eyes for something from her childhood that she would consider happy.  She settles on one that comes close enough.

“You ever see the Northern Lights, York?  Where I grew up, it was too far south to see them.  Or it usually was.  But there was one fall when a solar storm affected just how far down they came, and for one night, I got to see them.”

Carolina smiled at the memory.  “It was a clear night, cooler and there was a bit of a breeze off the lake.  I was just taking a walk, and I thought I saw heat lightning, which didn’t make sense, because it was way too cold.  But it flickered across the sky - rippled.  It wasn’t bright, but something about it just caught my eye, and I kept watching for it.  And while I was watching, the whole sky began to change.  It folded, like cloth, turning all slowly to pink.  One end of the sky to the other overhead, over the street - pink everywhere.  Parts of it got brighter, and then darkened… it just flowed over the sky.  Pink everywhere except for one tiny piece of yellow, and one tiny piece of green.”

“And it was beautiful.”

“But you know what was absolutely stunning?  You could _hear_ them.  There was a sound like nothing you’ve ever heard before in your life -- like… static-y, hissy chimes.  Faint… ethereal.”

Carolina closes her eyes.  “I stood out there by myself for as long as I could see them.  As long as I could hear them.  Pouring over the sky.  It was the most beautiful thing I had ever seen.  It felt like a dream -- too beautiful to be real.”  She sighs, opens her eyes and turns to look at York.  “Oh… you’re still awake?  I thought you’d be out by now.”  She tilts her head and laughs.  “What?  Why are you looking at me like that?”

His eyes are heavy and his heart slow, steady in his chest and it feels like with every beat he’s falling more in love with her. He doesn't understand how that’s be possible, but York feels it resonating in him. He wonders if it sounds anything like what she described as the sentiment floods his body with warmth and light.

“Beautiful,” he says, voice still rough but recovering. And then, because the sex has made him pliant and reckless, “can't wait to see ‘em with you.”

“Yeah,” she replies turning to wrap herself around him. “I would love that.  But still…” she adds, nestling her head against his, “if I wanted to see the most beautiful thing in my life, I could just open my eyes.”  

York is just awake enough to reply with a playful snort and a smooch, cracking a smile that threatens to break his heart in half and overflow his body with love. The last thing he feels as he slips off to sleep is Carolina’s half finishes braid under his fingers and her pulse against his wrist, beating in time with his.


End file.
